


Don't @ me

by KitsuneArashi, Lamamu



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Celebrity Castiel, Conventions, Cyber Bullying, Dean is a fanboy, Depression, Fan!Dean - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, Love triangle- kinda, M/M, Pining, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, Trolling, Twitter Fic, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love, actor!Castiel, fandoms - Freeform, mental health, slowest of burns, tweets
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2019-03-22 03:35:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13755456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KitsuneArashi/pseuds/KitsuneArashi, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lamamu/pseuds/Lamamu
Summary: Dean is in love with Castiel, the celebrity from that one tv show. You know the one. He’s everything Dean aspires to be, outwardly good, kind generous, not afraid to be himself and confidently weird and comfortable in his own skin. Dean tries not to come across too obvious when he comments on things, he’s sure millions of other people love Castiel as well, but somehow, despite never actually meeting the man, Dean’s managed to fall head over heels, I don’t want anyone else but you, in love with the unattainable.Then Dean does the unthinkable. He engages with a troll named Jimmy hell bent on tearing Castiel down from his lofty tower. Dean and Jimmy go back and forth arguing over anything and everything for several months. Dean hates the hell out of him, until suddenly, one day he realizes he doesn’t…But everything is not as it seems...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Explicit tag for later chapters.  
> We'll add tags and character tags as we go.
> 
> Lamamu and I found this work in our google docs from like, a year ago. This was all we had but hey, let's see where we can make it go.

Dean idly tapped the back of his phone as he checked his Twitter notifications. A few likes, a few retweets, and there! Castiel had tweeted another charity fundraiser event. Dean felt his face split into a fond smile as he retweeted the link before commenting on Castiel’s tweet with a short message of praise for the charity.

 

Impala67  
_Thank you for doing this Castiel._

 

He finished off the tweet with a heart eyed emoji and quickly scrolled down Castiel’s page, making sure he hadn’t missed any other tweets, it wouldn’t be the first time Twitter’s notifications had failed him.

As Dean scrolled through tweets and replies something caught his eye and he frowned, getting madder and madder as he read and reread the words on the screen.

 

HannaLovesCas   
_I love you so much Castiel, you’re such an inspiration._

LostBeeJimmy  
_Why the hero worship? He’s just a dumb actor in a TV show. I bet if people knew the real Castiel they wouldn’t think he was so awesome_

HannaLovesCas  
_Excuse me!? What have YOU done that’s so awesome then?_  
  
LostBeeJimmy  
_Nothing. I haven’t done anything awesome. And neither has Castiel, he just breaks everything he touches. What a loser._

 

Dean’s eyes widened and he checked the timing of the tweets. The last reply from this bee dude  had his blood simmering and he wanted to give him a piece of his mind. Jaw set stubbornly, Dean formulated his own response.

 

Impala67  
_What the hell man? What are you talking about ‘breaks everything he touches’? Castiel is kind and generous, he's brave and confident_

Impala67  
_enough to be himself, even if people think that's weird. Castiel inspires so many people every day. We know him. We love him._

 

There, Dean thought to himself. That ought to shut the guy up in no time. He tossed his phone down on the bed in disgust, but it had barely hit the sheets before it vibrated, letting him know someone had already responded.

 

HannaLovesCas  
_Yeah so STFU @LostBeeJimmy. Just unfollow him if you think he’s such a loser. How the hell would you know anyway?_

LostBeeJimmy   
_Whatever, you only see what he wants you to see. Maybe he isn’t brave and confident, maybe it’s all an act. Maybe he’s really a huge asshole and an egomaniac. Would you still ‘love’ him then?_

LostBeeJimmy  _  
_ _Face it. People love him because he’s a visually appealing, rich actor in a TV show they like. That’s all, I bet no one would care if he died._

 

Dean stopped himself before he could reply and give away his little, _ok… not so little_ , obsession with the blue eyed actor. Because yes _, yes,_ Dean would still love him if he wasn’t brave or confident. Dean would still love him if he was flawed and broken, if he gave up being on TV, if he gave up his fame and money to herd goats on a mountain. And Dean sure as hell would care if Castiel Milton were to die. Just the thought of it twisted something in his chest and he rubbed at the spot, wincing painfully.  
  
Lowering his hand again, Dean huffed a resigned laugh at himself and went as far as rolling his eyes. There he was, getting dragged into a twitter argument with someone who was obviously  just another troll, getting all riled up on behalf of a celebrity who didn’t know he existed. _Pathetic, Winchester,_ he scolded himself, moving to put his phone back into his pocket.

He stopped before locking the screen and reread the thread one last time. Jimmy hadn’t replied since that last tweet but something about the interaction really got under Dean’s skin and he couldn’t work out _why_.

And then, finally, he saw it. _Castiel was still tagged_. Jimmy had tagged Castiel in his hateful thread and it was possible that the guy could check his twitter and see these nasty things being said about him. He sighed and made a decision, Castiel may never see the thread at all, but if he did, he wouldn’t see Dean Winchester letting a comment like that go without a response.

 

Impala67  
_I’d care._

 

Dean expected a nasty retort, or maybe the line about no one knowing the ‘real’ Castiel coming back up again and he steeled himself against it. He was feeling pretty raw from those two simple words. It felt like he had laid himself bare for the world to see and he felt uncomfortably fragile as he waited for Jimmy to respond.

He didn’t. Instead Dean’s tweet was retweeted many, many times as people joined in on the chorus of ‘I’d care’. It became a hashtag. _#IdCare_ started trending, and some superfans even started talking about making it into a charity event of some kind. It made Dean feel uncomfortable and his fingers itched to delete it, to take it back and keep his feelings hidden.

He didn’t want his tweet put on a t-shirt.

But it was too late.

After a week the tweet had gathered over a thousand likes and Dean couldn’t handle it anymore. He hadn’t been bothering to check his notifications, turning them off entirely, since he’d been getting so many for the past few days. It was making his phone laggy and slow and messing with his head. More, he was starting to worry that maybe he’d missed a tweet from Sammy, or even Castiel. The tweet needed to go, it needed to be forgotten so that he could turn twitter notifications back on and everything would be normal again.

Eventually though, curiosity made Dean find his way back to the online community and the friends he had there. Naturally, his first stop was Castiel’s profile. It wasn’t an obsession.. no, Dean was merely curious to see what he’d missed. Or so he kept telling himself. Tapping across to Castiel’s profile to check for new tweets made Dean’s fingers freeze in shock. A tweet from two days before made him drop his phone, the slim object sliding out of his shaking hands and landing on his face with a painful thud. Dean’s chest felt tight as he picked it back up to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. Nope, there it was.

 

Castiel Milton  
_Thank you_

 

Castiel had retweeted him. Castiel Milton had seen his tweet and had retweeted it, had addressed him directly. Holy shit. _Holy_ _shit._ No wonder his notifications had gone insane.

Dean had never taken a screenshot so fast in his life.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kitsune's internet is down. So this one is mostly my fault.
> 
> Kitsune here: I am here for some way way-post-last-minute-editing. Yay.

Castiel Milton  
_It isn’t nice to see how badly we treat the environment. Especially when so far away from land. Stay tuned, I’m up to something._

Castiel Milton  
_We’re going to clean up the ocean!_

 

Dean woke up and checked his phone just like he did every morning. In the past couple of months he’d seen that idiot Jimmy commenting on Castiel’s posts, throwing general negativity into the conversation whenever someone praised Castiel too much. So far, since that one incident Dean had managed to refrain from commenting on most things, preferring to see the positivity in Castiel’s actions rather than the mood-killing rantings of someone who didn’t know how to hit the unfollow button.

Until now.

 

IDontLikeApricots   
_OMG Castiel you are the greatest! It’s like.. So important. All the world should follow your lead._

LostBeeJimmy   
_Good grief. He hasn’t even said anything productive and you’re all fawning over him. Next you’ll be saying he’s the greatest eco-warrior this world has ever seen. Give me a break._

IDontLikeApricots  
_How about you just get yourself out of Castiel’s notifications loser? He’s trying to save the world and you’re just out to tear him down._

LostBeeJimmy   
_I rest my case._   
  


It went on and on. Each time one of Castiel’s army of devout followers praised him, Jimmy had something to say about it. And each time, someone responded. As he scrolled down, Dean decided he’d sat on the sidelines long enough.  
  


Impala67   
_Not you again. Dude, give the guy a break. He’s just trying to spread awareness into his fandom._

LostBeeJimmy   
_I was wondering if you would show up again. Big deal. So he’s saving the world by picking up trash. Whoopdey-do. How about stopping people from dumping it in the first place, genius?_

Impala67   
_Come on man, he’s doing his best. I and a lot of others owe a lot to Castiel. He deserves something from us in return._

LostBeeJimmy   
_No, he really doesn’t. The only person you owe is you. If you want to save the world, save it. Don’t do it because some actor you don’t even know tells you to._

Impala67   
_I know enough. He inspires me to be a better person._

LostBeeJimmy  
_And yet here you are, wasting your time on social media instead of being out there being a better person._

Impala67  
_You know what? You don’t know me or my life and the good things I do. Get bent._

LostBeeJimmy   
_I bet you wouldn’t know a good thing to do if it hit you in the face._   
  


Jimmy disappeared after that comment. Dean didn’t have anything to add to it anyway. Something about it seemed to hit him where it hurt. He tossed his phone to one side and slowly stood up, stretching his arms above his head to get the kinks of sleep out of his bones. Glaring at his phone, Dean childishly stuck his middle finger up at it and went to shower. He had better things to worry about.

Later at work while he was sipping on his second coffee of the day, Dean realized what it was about Jimmy’s comment that had bothered him so much.

_Jimmy was right._

Dean may have said Castiel made him a better person, but _did he really_? Or was he just like the rest, only giving, only acting when asked? Was Dean really so far up on his own pedestal that he wasn’t part of the solution like he’d been telling himself he was all this time? Was he really just a keyboard warrior? He toyed absently with the ribbing on the container holding his coffee, fingers deftly moving over the cardboard as his mind wandered over the things he’d done for charity. Or just because Castiel had told him to do it.

Surely it was more than that?

With a growl of frustration, Dean pulled a notepad out of his desk drawer and began to scribble down everything he could think of and if it was because _Castiel_ had told him to do it or not.

It was a depressingly short list. And not one item was independent of Castiel’s influence.

“Stupid Jimmy,” Dean muttered to himself as he threw the pen down in defeat. “What the hell does he know anyway?” He picked up his coffee and drank the last of it down, grimacing at the cooled temperature but knowing from experience that he couldn’t reheat the disposable cup in the microwave.

Disposable. Cup.

 _“For fucks sake,"_ Dean slammed his hand down onto the desk, making everything jump. The cup in question was still in his other hand, only now it was crushed into a useless pile of wet cardboard and plastic. “I can’t believe it. I really am one of _them_ .” An all-talk-do-nothing _superfan_. He shot up out of his chair and stalked over to the window, hoping that the view would calm him a little. Dean had always considered himself to be a do-er, someone that had done, and did do good things for the world but now he was looking at himself in a different light. A sickly, flickering light with no real energy source of its own besides the one it sucked dry from the start of it all.

Castiel.

Maybe Jimmy was right about more than one thing, and boy did that piss Dean off. Because _that_ meant Sam was right too. Sam had _always_ said that Dean was all talk and no action. That he liked the idea of helping but lacked the motivation to go anything about it. He’d know, of course. Sam was off in Tibet right now, working on bringing running water to a village or some crap. Green eyes stared out onto the park across the street, taking in the autumn colors of the trees and the faded brown grass. The people out there talking and laughing in spite of the cool weather. Dean had chosen this workspace because not only was it central and therefore visible, he liked the view.

Also, when he drove to work everyday he liked the attention his Baby got. It was like a cruising advertisement for Winchesters’ Classics, a business he had built from the ground up, starting with his own car.

Finding parts, restoring classics. The family business.

Only it was just him now that Sam had started wandering like a nomad, saving the world, one remote village at a time.

“Screw it.” Dean shrugged into his jacket and headed downstairs to the shop floor, where his apprentice Garth was tucked under the wheels of ‘57 Chevrolet BelAir. Dean regarded the car fondly. It had taken months, but she was almost back to mint condition. Dean didn’t understand why the owner wanted it painted lemon yellow after the restoration was done, but she had turned up one day with the rusted out car on a tow truck and begged him to do it. Something about a twitter deal. The memory of her standing there muttering under her breath about payback brought the first smile of the day to his lips, and as Dean ran his hand along the steel and chrome, he made a mental note to ask her more about it when she came back for one of her random visits.

“How’s it going Garth?” He sang out, bending down to peer under the car.

Garth predictably jumped out of his skin when Dean spoke, hitting his head on the axle and dropping the tool in his hand with a loud clatter. The kid was always so jumpy Dean wondered how he managed to be so good at his job.

“Good Dean,” Garth responded as he wriggled his hand up to rub on his brow. “I’m just tightening things up here. Should be able to turn her over this afternoon some time.” He rubbed at the underside of the car in a loving, somewhat creepy manner. “I’m going to miss this one. Even if she is about to be spray painted yellow.”

Dean nodded along with Garth’s words and huffed out a rough chuckle. “Well since she’s got the cash, we’ve got the paint.” His eyes drifted to the door and Dean sighed, remembering why he was downstairs in the first place. “So hey, I’ll be back in an hour or so. Call me if there’s an emergency.”

“Yeah, I got this Dean. I know what to do.” Garth replied in an almost dismissive tone. “Me and the little lady have some fine tuning to do. We’ll be fine. Go do your thing.”

Dean grunted and straightened up, heading for the door with a wave he knew Garth couldn’t see. The whole twitter exchange with Jimmy was still getting under his skin and he needed to clear his head or he’d never be able to focus on what really mattered. And so he began walking.

Two hours later, Dean was standing outside a cafe that Sam had taken him to last time he was in town. Sure, the coffee had been good. Great even, but Dean had refused to go back there because it was a whole seven minutes of extra walking to get his coffee when he was at work. Now, as he stood in line waiting to order, a sign caught his eye.

_Pay it forward - soups for the homeless $5 per serve. Includes a fresh crusty sourdough roll. Choose from any of our flavors._

No wonder Sam had liked this place so much.

“What can I get you?” A friendly voice asked when it was his turn. Dean blinked and turned his head to look at the barista. He scratched the back of his head uneasily and shifted from one foot to the other.

“What’s the uh.. Deal with those reusable cups?” He finally managed to ask. Why was this so hard? He was actually doing something. It should feel good, right? Not awkward.

Her face brightened and she leaned towards him slightly, resting her elbows on the counter. Her twin braids fell forward over her shoulders and Dean couldn’t help but notice she had dimples when she smiled. “Oh the keepcups? They’re like the best idea ever! You buy the cup, I fill it with whatever coffee you want, and next time you come in, if you bring the cup you get a 10% discount on any drink you want in there.”

“Sweet. I think.” Dean replied in an uncertain tone. The cup itself was pricey but Dean could see how it would pay for itself and save money in the long run. He could _also_ see how many coffee cups he _wouldn’t_ be throwing in the bin at the same time. That was enough to have him picking up a cream colored cup with blue trimmings and handing it over to the barista, who smiled prettily at his decision.

“So what’ll it be handsome?” She asked with a cheeky grin on her face. “You look like a black coffee guy to me.”

“How the hell did you know that?” He asked her in a confused tone.

The barista just kept smiling at him, dimples and all. “That’s my secret. I’m right aren’t I?”

Dean grinned back at her and shook his head. “Yeah. Yeah you are. Black, two sugars, thanks Freckles.”

She giggled at the nickname and started making his coffee. “Just for that I’ll give you a cookie.”

In short order, Dean had his coffee and was back out on the street heading to the workshop. A cold wind had picked up, forcing him to clumsily zip up his jacket while trying not to drop his coffee. Damn, he’d forgotten about the snow forecast. As he began to feel the bite of the cold air, Dean noticed movement in the park and swiveled his head to get a better look. A few people were setting up a rudimentary shelter near the trees, causing Dean to frown as he tried to figure out what they were doing.

“It’s a disgrace…” a voice said in his ear. Dean jumped and turned to face the speaker. A shorter man wearing a black suit sporting a carefully trimmed beard was looking at the small group with disgust. “I’m trying to have it made illegal for them to be there but the council is against me.”

“Huh?” Dean quizzed him curiously. “What are you talking about?”

“Those homeless people.” The man, who Dean recognized as Fergus Macleod; a local property developer, continued. “They should be moved on. We can’t develop the town properly with homeless bums everywhere. Bad for business.”

Dean felt his anger rising, though he wasn’t sure why. Or what _he_ could do about it. “They’ve clearly got nowhere else to go man. Leave them alone.” He sipped on his coffee and moved away from Crowley, crossing the road to the park so he could get a better view. He could just make out where his workshop was on the other side. It was one of the things he loved about this town. The park was open and central and welcoming to everyone. But seeing this, here, now seemed a little too serendipitous.

Homeless people, in his town. Surely this was a new thing? Or maybe they’d always been there and Dean just hadn’t noticed. The thought brought him shame, but before he could dwell on it too much Dean found himself heading back to the cafe and the smiling barista within.

“Yo, Freckles.” He called as he re-entered the warmth of the cafe. “Can I get, say, half a dozen of those soups please?”


	3. Chapter 3

Since Dean started volunteering at the homeless shelter he found he had less time to himself, juggling his volunteer work with _actual_ work was harder than he thought it would be at first. He often found himself cranky and tired after a long day in the workshop, only to have to rush through peak hour traffic to get to the shelter in time. He didn’t want to stop volunteering though, the people there had it worse than he did, and he really had nothing to complain about except he missed out on being online a bit more. It was worth it though, and he became a regular face at the shelter so fast the managers had to order him to take a break for a few days.

But he didn’t. Sure, he may not have visited the shelter, but Dean threw himself under the bonnet of an old car instead, one of several he had lying around for no good reason in a barn on the small acreage he owned outside of town. They weren’t even classics, and as he sat on the tailgate of his mentor’s old pickup having a cold beer despite the chill in the air, Dean figured Bobby wouldn’t care if he did what he planned.

He rather thought the old man might be proud. And sort of happy his truck was going to that family he’d seen on the news that had lost everything when their insurance company refused to pay out even though their premiums were paid in full. Better than it being used as a chicken coop, anyway.

“One more day on you and I think you’ll be good to go. Tomorrow I’ll take you to the shop.” He said fondly to the old girl, patting the cold steel a few times. “Then I’ll rope Garth into giving your paint a touch up and by Friday I reckon we’re in business.” He nodded to himself again and slid off the car, catching and tearing his jeans on a stray screw on the way down.

“Sonofabitch…”

Dean felt around, digging his finger into the newest hole in his favorite jeans and winced when they came away bloody. It wasn’t gushing and he wouldn’t die any time soon, but it was enough to make him grimace and hope to God he didn’t need stitches on his ass.

He shoved an old rag down his boxers hoping it would catch the blood and cleaned up his gear, locking up the old barn with a satisfied smile on his face.

He was fucking exhausted, but damn he felt good these days, even with a bleeding, stinging ass. Dean checked the time as he approached his Impala and swore under his breath. He was running late now. Opening his phone, he shot off a quick text

_Yo, Freckles, I’m running late. Gimme 20._

As he started the engine, Dean heard his phone ping on the seat beside him and he shot a quick look at it as he rolled along towards the gate. Sure enough, it was from Madison.

_Duh, I figured. See you soon._

Not long after, his bleeding backside forgotten, Dean was up to his elbows in vegetables helping Madison make the newest batch of soups for her pay it forward initiative. It was a win-win. The cafe got his help once a week. He got fed and he made a couple of new friends out of it who, like him, had realised there was more to life than just _talking_ about helping people.

“Hey man, you have a little problem...” a now familiar voice laughed to one side of Dean. Jo, the blonde owner of the now lemon yellow ‘57 Chevrolet BelAir that Garth and Dean had rebuilt had wandered in to help. “That time of the month eh Dean?”

Dean rolled his eyes and continued to stir the pot, blowing at the steam now and then to get it out of his face. “Har har.”

“That’s what I said too! Hey Jo.” Madison quipped from his other side.  
  
“Hey _Freckles_ , how’s it going?” Jo asked the brunette with a jibe as she tied on her apron.

Jo and Madison were quite a pair and once they got started, it was pointless trying to stop them. Dean let them have their fun, joining in now and then as they all worked on different pots, switching places every now and then to comment on how the other tasted or smelled.

“How’s the car going anyway? No problems?” Dean had been surprised when Jo had waltzed in one afternoon when he’d been grabbing a coffee. He’d never forget _her_ car in a hurry. Or the color of it.

“Not one. Unlike you and your ass.” They both dissolved into a fit of giggles, causing Dean to give them a bitchface Sam would have been proud of.

“Yeah yeah, laugh it up.” Dean hid his grin with a put upon scowl as he turned down the burner for the soup he’d been stirring.

“Come on Dean, tell us what happened? Good sex? Was it good sex?” Madison turned big eyes to him, lip sticking out in a little pout as she pulled an honest-to-god Sam Winchester style puppy-dog look on him.

“It was good sex wasn’t it?” Jo leered across the kitchen at him with a gleeful look on her face.

“Was he cute?” Madison jumped in, grinning.

“Was who cute? I caught my ass on the back end of a car I’m fixin’ up for that family on the other side of town.” Dean grumbled, regretting telling them anything about his sexuality and, lack of, sex life at all.

“The ones that lost their dad in the fire? Oh Dean... shit.” Madison came over and slapped a friendly hand on his back. “You know us by now. We’re just poking the bear. You know we love you, right?”

“Yeah yeah, I know.” Dean’s reply was full of the fondness he felt for both of them and he was suddenly very glad he’d had that argument with that Jimmy asshole, or he’d never have found them.

“You’re like the brother we never wanted.” Jo hip checked him out of the memories of the first time he introduced the two and how easily they’d gotten along.

“Bite me,” he snapped a dishcloth in her direction.

“Looks like someone already did. You should go get some stitches. I see fresh blood, you’re still bleeding. Get out of here Dean, we got this.” Madison snatched the dish cloth out of his hands and gently nudged him towards the door, “besides, fresh blood in my kitchen is not exactly hygienic.”

‘But I -” Dean protested, sticking his spoon back in his pot, but when he caught the look both of them were giving him he surrendered with a grunt. Jo even had her arms folded across her ample bust. “Fine. Fine. I swear it’s like I have two wives sometimes.” Not to be outdone by their sass, he leered at both of them, giving them both a once over as he removed his apron. “Can’t say I’d die unhappy if I did. We still on for beers on Friday night?”  
  
They laughed at his lecherous behavior, knowing it was all in good fun. “Of course! Now get out of here and stop bleeding on my floors!” Madison snickered, shoving him, again, towards the exit.

Dean was even more tired, but in a fantastic mood by the time he left the cafe. True to his word, he swung past the emergency room and had his ass checked out by the nurses on duty. It felt like everyone needed to give their opinion on the injury for some reason, and by the time he’d gotten his stitches and tetanus shot it felt like he’d seen every nurse on duty swing by the room he was in for a ‘consult’.

He took it in his stride with a wink and a cheeky grin at the ladies, and men, who waltzed into his space, while on the inside Dean had well and truly started to feel objectified and by the time he stalked back into his apartment, he was pretty sure he had a good idea of how a celebrity like Cas must feel any time he met with fans. If he was so weirded out by one night, how must that man feel facing it every day? It was a sobering thought.

Showered, wearing clean clothes and finally getting some food into his grumbling stomach, Dean collapsed onto the couch with his laptop, ready to troll about on social media for an hour or so before he passed out for the night.  
  
“Jesus Christ!” Dean hissed out through his teeth at the sharp stab of pain, quickly standing back up and stuffing a hand into the back of his pants to check his stitches, sighing with relief when they were intact and his fingers came away blood-free. He gingerly sat himself down again and opened Twitter.

 

Impala67   
_Today I got stitches in my ass. I feel good though. All for a good cause._

 

Dean posted a status update and then went to check on his usual favorites to see what they had been up to while he’d been offline. It didn’t take him long to find a tweet by Castiel, made around the time Dean had been under the hood of Bobby’s old pickup.

 

CastielMilton  
_I’m excited to finally launch this campaign! Thanks to the guys over at 4Oceans for partnering up with me to bring you this limited edition, Hunters Inc bracelet!_

CastielMilton  
_In just a month’s time I will be joining up with 4Oceans and cleaning up The Great Pacific Garbage Patch and you are all invited! You can make a team and clean your own local beaches, or join an existing team._

CastielMilton  
_For every pound of trash you collect, you get one free Hunters Inc 4Ocean’s bracelet! Can’t get to the beach? Buy them here for $20 https://4ocean.com/products/4ocean-bracelet_

  
Dean stared at the link on the page, wishing that he could be one of the people applying to join Castiel’s team, but knowing that he had commitments here now and he couldn’t just blow off work or his shifts at the homeless shelter. Thanks to his and Jo’s advertising, he also couldn’t leave Madison with the rising crowd of homeless and hungry that come to her cafe every afternoon. Even now, with his help, she had trouble keeping up and he saw how it broke her a little more each time she had to put the ‘sold out’ sign up.  
  
Dean sighed a little unhappily and clicked on the link to purchase some bracelets, where he found his spirits rising a little. They were beautiful, and the stainless steel Hunters Inc symbol dangling from the knot was just the perfect touch. Before he even knew what he was doing he’d added five of them to his cart and checked out.  
  
After his order was confirmed, Dean found himself checking the comments on Castiel’s thread. He didn’t know if it was because of the day he’d had, or if he was just more aware of things now that he was actually _trying_ instead of talking, but everything on there just seemed to make him angry.

_Stick to acting._

_Stop asking us for money, jfc we give enough_

_Fuck me, daddy._

_I love you Castiel._

_I think you should focus more on things we can get to. Me, personally, I live inland and can’t get to the beach. What about us?_

_But I live on the Indian Ocean. What about our plastic?_

_Didn’t Pamela just do a campaign about something? Why do the people from this stupid show always ask us for money like we’re some kind of ATM?_

_This isn’t fair Castiel why aren’t you including your broke fans? we can’t all afford to buy bracelets._

_Dat-ass-tiel tho._

Dean had read enough by now. Sure, a lot of the time he was no better, at least according to Jimmy, though he didn't really see it that way. But this, he wasn’t going to let slide without comment.

 

Impala67   
_Leave the man alone. Do what you can, or don’t. Nobody is forcing your hand._

LostBeeJimmy   
_Since when do you have a clue? You’re just as bad as the rest of them with your fawning and your flailing everytime the man makes a post._

Impala67   
_Bite me on my stitched up ass Jimmy. I like the man, he does good things. He’s a beacon of inspiration to the rest of us._

LostBeeJimmy   
_Blah blah blah. Get off your ass and do something about it then instead of sitting on here trolling his comments._

Impala67   
_What like you do? You don’t know jack about me buddy. Don’t go there._

LostBeeJimmy   
_Touche, and likewise._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Kitsune randomly found 4Oceans on instagram recently and it was just the perfect thing to have our dear Castiel becoming involved with, the link in the fic is the actual link to their bracelets and we totally suggest you check them out.


End file.
